


Cut to Black

by bioloyg



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), First Kiss, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Road Trips, maybe they will maybe they won't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 20:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13865025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioloyg/pseuds/bioloyg
Summary: Out here near the Rockies cities are few and far between. The sky opens itself up like a desert rose and reveals her hidden treasures, stars kept secret from city denizens. It’s times like this that Bucky rolls down the windows of their ugly little blue beetle and just breathes. The fresh air and diamond speckled sky provide Bucky a sense of relief not even all the money in the world could give him~Based on a prompt I took way too many liberties with.





	Cut to Black

**Author's Note:**

> This hasn't been proof-read or edited, but it's late right now so I'll come back to it later. If you follow me on tumblr (or subscribe to me here), you might know that I'm warming up and trying to get back into writing after taking a VERY large mental break.
> 
> Hopefully you enjoy this quick little something that I wrote. The prompt I received said: Road trip Shenanigans for SamBucky. Like playing loud music with the windows down and going to cheesy tourist traps.
> 
> Does this have road trips and shenanigans? Yes. Is it as lighthearted as I initially sought out to make it? Not even close. Bucky gets in his feelings AGAIN.

“What exactly are we doing here, Steve?” Bucky asks, almost sighing his words. The sun peers down on the three of them, unwavering. It’s hot, the air is stale, and the mounds of metal before them only seem to make everything worse.

Steve shrugs. “I’ve never had a chance to travel and I thought it might be nice to fall into some tourist traps on our road trip.”

Bucky snorts. “Road trip… Is that what you’re calling this?”

With a subtle blink-and-you-miss-it eyeroll Steve says, “What else would I call it?”

Sam finds his way out from behind one of the slate colored cars and, without missing a beat, he answers, “Evading police, aiding and abetting, treason - I can go on if you’d like.” He doesn’t, though, he just continues his loop around the mess of vintage cars stacked here that are meant to simulate Stonehenge.

Bucky turns back to Steve and raises his eyebrows, to which Steve lets out a gentle breath and says, “I’m just trying to lighten the mood a little. Would you rather we stopped at a truck stop next time?”

After a moment of what Steve probably thinks is genuine consideration, Bucky says, “You’re right. A truck stop would be  _ way _ more interesting.”

Somewhere in the midst of the cars Bucky can hear Sam laughing. Steve doesn’t find it quite as funny. In fact, the next place Steve takes them is a gas station in Buford, Wyoming, a town known for having an astounding population of  **_one_ ** . Bucky knows Steve has a penchant for holding grudges and being petty, but he draws the line at being dragged through Wyoming to look at a town with a single house, gas station, and post office. Sam must be tired too because he drives the majority of the time from then on, and Steve - well, he gets the backseat all to himself.

~

It’s late. Out here near the Rockies cities are few and far between. The sky opens itself up like a desert rose and reveals her hidden treasures, stars kept secret from city denizens. It’s times like this that Bucky rolls down the windows of their ugly little blue beetle and just breathes. The fresh air and diamond speckled sky provide Bucky a sense of relief not even all the money in the world could give him. It reminds him how small he is in the grand scheme of things, that he’s human and impermanent.

Sam turns to Bucky briefly, his face partially illuminated by the lights reflecting onto his face. “You doin’ okay?”

Bucky’s head lolls to the side as he looks at Sam. He’s since turned back to keep an eye on the road, and to be honest Bucky is grateful. He has trouble looking Sam in the eyes. Something about them - about  _ him _ \- is so sharp. Keen even. He has a feeling that if Sam ever looked at him long enough he would be able to tell every single thought going through Bucky’s battered mind. But the reverse isn’t true.

No matter how long Bucky follows the slope of Sam’s cheeks or the curvature of his jaw, no matter how long he trains his gaze on every little expression Sam makes, there’s always something buried that Bucky just can’t seem to dig up. Something important; something secret. It’s frustrating that he can’t say the same for himself, because when he lies it’s so painfully obvious. But for once Bucky doesn’t have to lie. For once everything  _ is _ okay.

“Yeah,” Bucky finally answers. “‘S just thinking.”

“About what?” Sam asks amicably. Steve would probably ask the same but he fell asleep two counties ago, yet another thing Bucky is grateful for right now.

Bucky turns back toward the open window and shrugs. “Nothing… Everything.”

An amused sound finds its way from the back of Sam’s throat. “Hmm.”

“Do you ever look up at the sky and think about how small we are?”

Sam looks at Bucky for a moment and nods. There’s a reserved smile tugging at his lips, desperate to become something more. “All the time.”

Bucky casts a sidewards glance in Sam’s direction. “How does it make you feel?”

“Relieved,” Sam answers, honest and earnest.

Someone laughs, and to be honest Bucky can’t tell who, but he agrees. “Me too.”

~

Despite Bucky’s earlier feelings regarding tourist traps, it’s starting to feel like more of a weird family road trip whenever they stop at one now. It makes everything feel downright normal. Of course, it doesn’t erase the things Bucky’s done and it doesn’t keep him from feeling on edge, but for a moment he can pretend this is what his life could’ve been like.

This time they’re in a tiny town near the border of Utah and Arizona and this time they’re in an actual place worth seeing. Bucky’s never much cared for history despite being in the military and becoming such a big part of it, but he has to admit that there’s something oddly comforting about museums. What’s better is that this museum is actually in a cave of sorts, and it houses all sorts of things for Bucky to occupy his mind with.

Still, Bucky finds himself watching Sam from time to time as if he were a part of the exhibit. He seems as timeless as a museum artifact, and twice as mysterious despite being somewhat of an open book. Sam has already caught him looking once, but Bucky can’t be bothered to care.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Sam says as he passes by on his way to look at another fossil.

Bucky smirks. “The lighting is wrong.”

That makes Sam laugh, and it’s a wonderfully rich sound that Bucky holds onto. “Whenever you do just remember to catch me on my right, that’s my good side.”

He looks up then, as if determining whether or not that’s true. “You have a good side?”

Sam narrows his eyes. “Watch it, Barnes.”

“What exactly am I watching?”

Sam groans and moves on to the arrowhead display case. “You’re not funny,” he says as he goes.

Bucky makes a move to follow him, but Steve claps a hand on his shoulder. Before Bucky even has a chance to say anything, Steve says, “I see you and Sam are getting along.”

Something about the statement almost makes Bucky blush, like he’s been caught. But caught doing what? Bucky shrugs off the thought and then he shrugs his shoulders too. “I guess you could say that.”

Steve lets out an amused huff. “Well, you’re not bickering like siblings anymore, so I’d call it an improvement.”

“Yeah, well, no guarantee it’ll last.”

Steve looks from Sam back to Bucky and smiles gently. It’s like one of his TV smiles but worse. Bucky can tell Steve is about to give him advice and there’s nothing he can do to stop it, no matter how odd it feels. “He’s a lot nicer than you think, Buck.”

_ I know exactly how nice he is _ , Bucky thinks. There was a period of time when Sam was following him. More than a year actually, which was just enough time for Bucky to learn about Sam from the inside out. And yet there’s still something on the tip of his tongue that Bucky just can’t seem to verbalize about Sam, some hidden character trait.

When Bucky answers Steve, he says, “I’m sure he is. Doesn’t mean he can tolerate  _ me _ .”

Steve grimaces, no doubt remembering the time Bucky ripped Sam from the sky and tried to throw him to his death. Or maybe he’s remembering the time Bucky ripped the steering wheel out of Sam’s car. It could be a number of equally horrifying things, but does Steve acknowledge that? No. Instead he says, “Sam knows the difference between you and the things you’ve done.”

Bucky sighs. The sun setting on a day doesn’t erase what happened during it. It just means that time has passed. Bucky wonders if there will ever be enough time for him to atone for the things he’s done. Not only to the people closest to him, but to those affected by the ripples of his actions.

“Sure he does,” Bucky answers, but he doesn’t believe a word of it and Steve knows. He has to because his sad blue eyes slice their way right through Bucky’s core.

Luckily, Sam saves them from each other. One more moment and Steve would’ve felt the need to reassure Bucky that he’s not a waste of time, space, and emotional effort. One more second and Bucky would’ve had to tell Steve that sometimes he’d rather be dead than live with everything he’s done for the next however many years this body will take him. But there are some things Sam can’t save them from, like the knowing look Steve gives Bucky, the one that says, “We’ll talk about this later.”

~

They don’t talk about it later, thankfully. Steve falls asleep in the backseat again while Sam and Bucky are left to themselves and the stars. The closer they get to the West coast the more lights there are which makes stargazing a little disappointing. Regardless, Sam stops at a gas station in the middle of nowhere Nevada to fill up their gas tank, and when he’s finished he sits on the hood of the car and looks upward.

It doesn’t really dawn on Bucky until he comes out of the tiny store attached to the station, but Sam must miss his wings. All that time without them only to get them back and then have them ripped out of his reach again just as quickly? Bucky can’t imagine what’s going on in Sam’s head.

“See anything good up there?”

Sam almost startles, but not quite. “Just the stars.”

“And what do they say tonight?” Bucky asks as he sits down next to Sam.

He thinks for a moment. “Well… that’s Ursa Major, and if I’m right then I think it says you’re going to be mauled by a giant bear.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Bucky says casually.

“Wait, really?”

“ **_No_ ** ,” Bucky answers as he laughs. “You really think I’d fight a bear?”

“How would I know?” Sam huffs. “All that time you spent running around Russian forests. Bears are practically pets over there, it could’ve happened.”

Bucky smiles to himself and looks up. A few minutes pass before he says, “You can almost see Corvus from here.”

“Hmm?”

“The constellation - that could’ve been you.” Sam’s eyebrows furrow in thought, but Bucky doesn’t give him the chance to say anything. “Corvids are some of the smartest birds.”

Just as Sam’s face softens Bucky ruins the moment and says, “It’s no wonder you’re a falcon and not a corvid then.”

Sam punches him in the side. “Jerk.”

“Bird brain.”

“Tin can.”

Bucky looks at Sam and raises an eyebrow. “Tweety.”

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Barnes,” Sam warns.

He laughs again, and soon enough they’re back to gazing up at the stars. At some point they both lean back so that they can lay down. The spring air sweeps across their skin, always keeping them from falling asleep. Something about the moment - be it the steady breeze or the abundance of stars - keeps Bucky’s thoughts from racing, which is probably why he doesn’t see this conversation coming.

“Can I ask you something?” Sam wonders aloud, turning to face him.

Bucky immediately feels the need to become defensive, but he reminds himself that Sam is more of a friend than an enemy now. “Depends.”

“It’s nothing personal.”

“Shoot.”

He looks away then and swallows whatever it is he’s trying  _ not _ to ask. “When you look at me, what is it that you’re trying to figure out?”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Sam says. “You still look at me like I’m a puzzle to be solved.”

Bucky opens his mouth to answer but nothing comes out. At least not immediately. “I - don’t know.”

Sam sighs. “Bucky -”

“I mean it,” he says in an effort to save whatever moment it is they’re having. “I’m looking, but I don’t know what it is that I’m trying to find.”

Sam makes a face and sits up. He crosses his arms and holds himself, protecting himself from the slight bite the breeze carries as the temperature drops further into the night. “What do you  _ want _ to find out?”

“Why you look at the sky the way you do,” Bucky says. “Why you talk to me even though I’ve tried to kill you.” He sits up then and slides himself off the hood of the car. Somehow Steve is still asleep in the backseat. He must be so tired of what the world has become. Sam must be too, and yet he never really sleeps.

Sam looks down at his feet and shrugs. “I tried to hate you, if it makes you feel any better.”

Bucky lets out a dry laugh. “Oh yeah, It makes me feel  _ great _ .”

“I didn’t mean - ” Sam sighs. “ - I wanted to hate you for so long. I wanted to hate you for ruining my second chance to help save people, for wasting my time, for making Steve see something in you that I just couldn’t. That I still can’t. But I didn’t really hate you, I hated what they made you into.”

Something about the admission makes Bucky’s skin tingle in an unpleasant way. “You say that like you knew who I was before.”

“I say it as someone who has seen you through Steve’s lens. I know you’re not a saint, but you’re no demon either.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t see what Steve sees in me.”

Sam takes a deep breath. “I can’t, but when I look at you I can see what he probably wants to.”

Bucky looks Sam in the eyes for once, lets Sam pick him apart and pull at the rope he’s been restraining himself with. “And what’s that?”

“Good.” Sam looks down again. “I see someone good. Someone with regrets that wants the chance to right wrongs that really aren’t even his to correct… Someone substantially more human than I previously thought.”

He shakes his head and laughs. “It’s funny what you can see when your vision isn’t clouded by hate.”

“You’d probably be better off if you  _ did _ hate me.” And god does Bucky wish Sam hated him.

He slides off the car and brushes his hands on his jeans. “I don’t have the energy to waste on hating you,” Sam says. “It’s a lot easier to forgive, especially when the person who hurt you was being brainwashed.”

Bucky clenches his teeth together as Sam gets closer. “Doesn’t mean I’m innocent.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re guilty,” Sam replies quietly.

“Sam,” Bucky starts, but he’s not entirely sure he wants to finish whatever this sentence is.

“What?”

“I think I know what I’ve been trying to figure out…”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “And?”

He steps a little bit closer and slowly moves to hook his forefinger under Sam’s chin. He looks at Sam’s lips for just a split second, and then up into his eyes. “I want to know why you look at me the way you are right now when you think I can’t see you.”

Sam’s lips part and a faint sigh tumbles out. “You sound like you know the answer.”

“I think you might too,” Bucky says as he leans in.

He doesn’t have to bridge the gap between them, Sam closes the remaining distance between them and kisses Bucky. It’s dangerous for them to do this out here, but Bucky can’t drum up a single fuck to give. Not when Sam rests his hands on his hips and clenches Bucky’s t-shirt like it can save him. And definitely not when they part to breathe, only to come back to each other and deepen the kiss.

There’s something bittersweet about the moment, because for a second Bucky almost believes he can let himself have this. Come tomorrow morning, everything will probably be back to the way it was yesterday. Or maybe it won’t.

Whatever the case, Bucky forgets what he was thinking about as soon as their tongues meet in a slick slide across one another. He sighs into the kiss and hooks his only arm around Sam’s waist to bring him closer, and somehow it’s still not enough. And it probably never will be. Not now, not when they can’t have each other the way that they want to. They’re not ready.

But for now that doesn’t matter. All Bucky has to know right now is how to breathe and how to kiss Sam like the world doesn’t exist. Because it doesn’t. Right now Sam is his world, and he’s fine with that. It’s a much better world here in his arms anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed this. I look to my readers for guidance, so knowing you enjoy my fics makes it that much easier for me to continue writing. I'll love any comment I get no matter what it says<3
> 
> Come follow me on tumblr @ZamnWilson!


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